


The Robbed Robes

by SchuylerSister16 (orphan_account)



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Episode: e060-066 The Stolen Century Parts 1-7, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Heist, Heist Planning, IPRE, One of the lost cycles, Some Fluff, Spoilers for Episode: e060-066 The Stolen Century Parts 1-7, Stolen Century Spoilers, Taz spoilers, There's swearing, blupjeans, is this fluff? is this serious? I have no clue, the starblaster, there's a fancy gala
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-11-13 00:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18021356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/SchuylerSister16
Summary: While imprisoned upon their disabled ship in a plane filled entirely by a modern metropolis, the Starblaster crew hear of a gala that will be displaying the world's greatest treasures. The main attractions? The Light of Creation and Fisher, stolen by their captors. With time running out, will Lucretia and crew be able to pull off a daring heist? Or will the Hunger finally catch up with them?





	1. Flying In A Restricted Area

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes enter a new plane. Davenport does some fancy flying. Magnus tries to protect. Fisher screams.

“We should be breaking through the clouds at any moment.” Davenport’s authoritative voice rang out from the bridge, startling Lucretia out of her thoughts. She set down her book and joined the others, excited to see what the new plane would have in store for them.

Magnus was bouncing on his massive toes like a little kid. “I hope they have some books for Fisher to read.” Ever since they’d brought Fisher on board, Magnus had become something of an eager first-time parent, instead of his usual brash recklessness. It was a big change, to say the least.

“I hope it’s safe,” said Davenport in a quiet tone. Suddenly, the ship broke through the clouds, and they could view much of the world below them. A shining white city stretched as far as the eye could see, crisscrossed by wide streets and punctuated by a handful of tall buildings off to the west. It was a monochrome portrait of modernity in shades of white and gray.

Merle shoved his way to the front of their huddle and peered at the city with a critical eye. “Where are the trees?”

“Better yet, where’s Taako?” Barry materialized behind her, a mechanical pencil tucked behind his ear. The pockets of his ratty dad jeans were jammed full of crumpled paper that crinkled whenever he moved. Notes from the last plane, most likely.

“Sleeping,” snorted Lup. Without warning, the _Starblaster_ jolted wildly, nearly throwing Lucretia and the others to the ground.

From the ladder below, the heard Taako’s muffled cries of panic. “What the hell was that?!” Another series of bumps shuddered through the ship, though not as violently as before.

Davenport swore and yanked the ship upward, throwing the rest of the crew to the ground if they hadn’t been already. Lucretia let out a cry as her hip bashed onto the cold metal floor, followed by Magnus landing on her legs. “They’re shooting at us!” Beads of sweat appeared on his temples as he frantically tried to outmaneuver them, pitching the ship in all directions. Everyone was yelling and swearing as they tumbled around like the salad Taako had tossed for them the night before. 

“Shoot those assholes back,” screamed Merle, who’d ended up underneath a very apologetic Barry. Lucretia frantically counted at least seven small fighting ships hovering outside of their cockpit window. One of them, probably their leader, had a silver stripe on it’s right wing.

 _“You do not have flyover clearance,”_ an authoritative voice blared, probably from one of the enemy ships. Lup raised her middle fingers high and glared out of the bridge's window. _“You are flying in a restricted area.”_

“Dav, what do we do?” Lucretia felt her stomach beginning to drop somewhere below her knees as more enemy ships began to amass themselves outside of the _Starblaster_ . _“You are surrounded on all sides.”_

 _“Please follow us. Do not attempt escape.”_ And without further explanation, the silver-striped ship took off to the west, giving the _Starblaster_ no choice but to follow them. For a few seconds the cabin was silent as everyone tried to process what had happened. Lucretia’s hip continued to ache, obviously unhappy about being smashed against the floor.

Davenport cleared his throat and tightened his grip on the wheel. “Hide your things,” he instructed, his usual captain’s authority replaced by a quiet sense of apprehension. The five of them looked at each other, then nearly trampled one another in their haste to get out of the bridge and into their various cabins. Lucretia burst into her room, nearly tripping over the fluffy rug she’d laid down to keep her feet from getting cold. Once, it had been Lup’s room too, but she’d opted to move in with Barry.

 _They mustn’t find the journal,_ she thought to herself. With shaking hands, she yanked her top desk drawer open and grabbed the contents, making sure her leather-bound journal was among them. Certain that she had everything important, she darted back towards the common area.

Frantic but quiet chaos reigned all around her. Magnus was busy unzipping the couch cushions and shoving his possessions inside of them. Taako had hidden his wand in one of their emergency rations, and was trying to carefully close up the packaging. Merle was on the kitchen counter, and Lup was on Barry’s shoulders so she could hide her wand in the air duct above her.

As if sensing the impending doom, Fisher hummed a nervous melody and began to dart around inside his tank. “We have to hide him,” Magnus yelped, abandoning his possessions and running towards the tank with parental anxiety.

“There isn’t any place to put him!” Lucretia scanned the room for a good spot until she remembered the loose panel behind the bathroom’s towel rack. She nearly face-planted in the hallway, but kept going. Her fingers were shaking so badly, she could barely unscrew the panel’s bolts.

Taako burst in, still in his silk bathrobe, nearly out of breath. “Get your red robe on. We’re here.” Lucretia shoved her papers in the panel, and hastily re-screwed it, praying to every deity she could think of that they’d be there when she got back. She reentered the common room and retrieved her robe from the row of hooks over in the kitchen. Everyone was already there, minus Taako, waiting for whatever was outside. 

“We’re inside of a really big hanger,” explained Davenport, gesturing to the apparent darkness outside of their windows. “The fighters must be landing somewhere outside.” Magnus had thrown his bed sheet atop Fisher’s tank, which was useless since Fisher continued to hum in nervous minor chords. The relative quiet was deafening in their ears.

“So, what’s the scoop?” Taako strutted back into the common room, wearing a sassy black skirt and a rainbow crop top, his boot heels clicking on the floor and his red robe fluttering out behind him like a flag. In spite of the grim atmosphere, Lucretia couldn't help but smile at his flamboyance. 

Barry nervously adjusted his glasses, looking as if he was going to be sick. “Nothing yet,” he croaked, gripping Lup’s hand like a lifeline. Contrary to her anxious boyfriend, Lup looked as if she could take down the gods themselves.

“What else did you see, Dav?” Many pairs of stomping feet could be heard above them. Fisher sung a quick, sharp note as the feet above continued to move around. A knock was heard from the door on the common room’s opposite wall.

“Stand back,” Davenport ordered grimly. Fisher’s low hums grew louder as the door swung open and white-suited soldiers poured into the cabin.

“Up against the wall!” Davenport shuffled back to the others without complaint as every soldier trained their crossbows on the team. They all stood side by side; Magnus towered in front of Fisher’s tank to protect him.

A series of rapid-fire calculations fired off in Lucretia’s brain. It was exactly twelve feet to the door. There were eleven soldiers in the cabin. It would take them roughly ten to fifteen seconds to reload their crossbows. The odds weren’t looking good.

“Search the ship!” Lucretia nearly cringed as the white soldiers began to methodically tear apart the kitchen cabinets and the common room. A few were holding small devices that Lucretia hoped weren’t scanners. They worked in silence as they tore apart every drawer, cabinet, and shelf. Taako, who'd spent several days organizing the kitchen, looked to be on the verge of saying something that would get them all in trouble. 

A lanky blonde with a silver insignia on her shoulder turned to face them with a bored expression. “Who is the captain?”

“I am.” Davenport had made certain that he was wearing his captain’s red robe with the epaulets and gold buttons. Even though his head barely reached her waist, he stared her down with a fierce intensity. An elven soldier began to scribble frantically on an official-looking notepad.

“What’s your sector?” Out of the corner of her eye, Lucretia observed the twins rolling their eyes in unison. 

Davenport’s shoulders tensed. “We’re not from here.” The notetaking elf gasped and dropped their pad, backing away in horror. Apparently foreigners didn’t crop up a lot.

The blonde’s bored expression was gone, replaced by undisguised shock. “Then where are you from?” The seven of them exchanged a few quick glances. Would these people even believe them?

“Another plane of existence,” Davenport replied calmly, faintly amused by the shocked silence that followed. A smile was lurking at the corners of his mouth, making his red mustache twitch. Lucretia fought the urge to laugh aloud as Lup actually giggled a little.

“This is not my division,” muttered the blonde while gazing at the metal ceiling. She recovered herself and began to bark orders. “Finish searching the ship! And where’s that humming noise coming from?!” The seven of them froze. Shoulders tensed, sweat appeared, and throats closed up. Lucretia’s heart began to speed up. She could see the beads of sweat beginning to drip down Magnus’s temples as the officer’s eyes fell on the bed sheet. “What’s in there?” Nobody spoke, except Fisher, whose low hum became a series of panicky minor chords.

“Medicine cabinet,” Magnus lied in a last-ditch effort to play it cool. The officer snorted and shoved him aside, ripping the sheet off with a flourish. Fisher shied away from the glass and hummed a sour-sounding note. 

“Shall we requisition it, Captain Frost?” asked the notetaking elf, her pencil hovering over the pad expectantly. In just a few seconds, the atmosphere shifted. Magnus didn’t move but was obviously ready to beat the crap out of anyone who tried to take Fisher. A fight brewed on the horizon.

Taako snorted and played with a stray strand of his hair. “It’s just a jellyfish, my dude.” His tone was so level you could’ve built a house on it.

But Frost ignored him, still eyeing the tank. “Might as well, Soldier Krane.” Four soldiers moved to grab the tank without bothering to draw their weapons.

That was a mistake.

Magnus, roaring like an enraged bear, grabbed the nearest soldier by the collar and slammed them into the wall with a sickening crack. Soldier Krane screamed for backup as Lucretia found herself being sucked into an all-out brawl. In the end, it took five soldiers to hold Magnus down long enough to make off with the tank. “FISHER! NO!” As if answering him, Fisher let out something like a musical shriek and thrashed inside of his tank. He continued to scream even as he was carried out of sight. 

A pair of rough hands suddenly grabbed her shoulders. Panic seized Lucretia as they cuffed her hands behind her. “Wait! Don’t take him!” The only answer was a hand forcing her to her knees. Something hard struck her in the face and her cheek began to throb. All around her, the soldiers roughed up the _Starblaster_ crew to get them under control. A hand smashed into Lup’s mouth and split her lip. Merle was practically trampled underfoot. Taako’s face was bashed against the wall, and Barry’s glasses were in pieces on the floor.

“You don’t understand,” bellowed Magnus, spitting blood from a split lip. “He needs someone to take care of him!” Another high-pitched musical scream rang out from far away. “BRING FISHER BACK, YOU FUCKERS!”

Frost shot him an icy glare. “Shut him up!” A gag was produced and tied around his mouth with chilling efficiency. Unabated, Magnus continued his muffled ranting punctuated by curses. Lucretia’s heart hammered against her chest. The whole team was cuffed and subdued. By the looks of the couch and kitchen, they’d found everyone’s hidden weapons. They’d even checked the air duct containing Lup’s wand.

“We’re not a threat,” Davenport protested, his officer’s coat rumpled from the scuffle. “We’re here to help you!” He too was ignored by Frost. They seemed to be waiting for someone more qualified. Magnus spent the whole time muttering vicious threats at Frost, who lounged on their couch and waited. Several minutes later, a muscular mass of a woman stomped aboard wearing a solid silver uniform.

“What’s all this mess?!” She was even bigger and beefier than Magnus, with cropped black hair and eyes that narrowed with disdain. 

“Foreigners, Colonel Morton,” replied Frost, prompting a string of curses from the officer. Taako and Lup were both raising their middle fingers behind their backs. Lucretia hoped they couldn’t see them. “We’ve taken their weapons and disabled the spacecraft.” Davenport’s face crumpled into a ruin of worry. If they couldn’t fix the ship by the end of the year, they’d be screwed.

“Well we don’t got any place to put them!” Morton paused to spit, narrowly missing the hem of Taako’s skirt.

Frost nodded sagely. “I know Colonel. We could keep them in this hanger until space frees up at Blackstone.” The officer paced and nodded thoughtfully as Frost forged ahead. “They can’t get off the ground in this thing, and we’ve got plenty of grunts to watch them.”

Barry tried to interject, squinting to compensate for his busted glasses. “Don’t we get a fair trial?!” But no one listened, or seemed to care.

“You’re certain they can’t get out?” Frost nodded again.

Morton sighed loudly. “I want four men inside this hanger around the clock!” She continued to bark orders while stomping off of the _Starblaster_. The rest of the soldiers trailed out behind her, until only the seven of them were left aboard, still handcuffed and on their knees.

“This cycle’s full of shit,” Taako muttered venomously, a vibrant green bruise already blooming on one of his cheeks.

With a mighty effort, Davenport got back on his feet and studied them carefully. “Not we have anything to say about it.”


	2. A Way Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes bid their time. Lucretia keeps track of time. Magnus misses Fisher. Barry makes a discovery.

The next eleven months passed by slowly, but every day in the hangar was spent wisely. Davenport insisted on establishing a routine, and enforcing mandatory “nap time” so that they wouldn’t all kill each other or go insane.

Lucretia tried to continue chronicling in her journal, but there wasn’t much to say. She instead spent her days interviewing the crew about their lives, running laps around the hangar with Magnus, and helping Merle illustrate his memoirs.

Despite the orders of the giantess commander, there were never more than two guards at one time, and most nights there was only one. Barry spent most of his day outside the ship, under the pretense of working on something scientific. In reality, he made friends with the soldiers and began to glean bits of information about the world they were on.

As they continued to build trust, the guards began to bring them things that they requested. A history book for Lucretia. Grid paper for Barry. A potted plant for Merle. By the eleventh month of their stay, talk of escape was near constant.

Dinner that night was lively, despite the subpar food provided by their captors. “Lucille mentioned something about a shipment coming in tonight,” said Barry, pouring himself a glass of water. He was referring to one of their guards that he’d befriended.

Magnus’s face lit up with a devilish smile. “Anybody up for a little requisition?”

“Hell yeah,” Taako agreed. Six months ago, Magnus had managed to acquire a crowbar, which they often used to pry open the crates of goods dropped off in the hangar. It reminded Lucretia of Candlenights, except if they were caught there would certainly be hell to pay.

“Be careful.” As much as he enjoyed the things they’d found in the crates, Davenport worried about Magnus jeopardizing their safety. He often felt like everyone’s dad rather than their captain.

Magnus shrugged and knocked back his glass of water in one massive gulp. “Don’t worry, Dav.” They’d stolen many things over the last few months; a voter registration packet, a box of chocolates, two paperback novels that were mostly government propaganda, and even a small hunting knife, among other things.

“I can’t wait till we blow this joint,” Lup muttered into her bowl of flavorless soup. The last few months had been hard for everyone, especially Lup. There wasn’t exactly a whole lot of roaming she could do in a hangar.

Barry patted her hand and smiled sweetly, and the corners of Lup’s mouth began to twitch upwards in spite of themselves. Sometimes, the two of them acted like teenagers, but in the quiet moments they almost seemed like an old married couple.

Merle nodded as he pushed around the vegetables in soup. “You said it, sister.” Merle was normally much more cheerful, but he hated having to stay indoors all the time too.

“Barold, tell whoever’s outside that this food is shit.” With no access to ingredients of any kind, Taako was starting to go a little crazy, especially since their meals were less than appetizing. Yesterday, he’d organized the entire spice rack by taste because he was bored.

Barry snorted and almost spit out his soup. “Duly noted,” he chuckled, his voice a baritone rumble in contrast to Taako’s high tenor. “Though I don’t think it’ll make much of a difference.”

“Dav, I think we should begin our escape discussions tonight,” Lucretia suggested, and everyone visibly perked up. “We’ve only got four weeks left.”

Davenport goggled at her. “Already?!” Lucretia, fearing that one miscalculation would result in the Hunger swooping down on them, had been fastidiously making tally marks on the whiteboard in her room. “I guess we _should_ start planning. Barry, go get your notes.” Barry took his plate to the sink and ran off to his room. For months, Barry had been compiling notes on the world around them in order to aid their escape.

As soon as he returned, Davenport tapped his glass with the end of his fork. “Alright everyone, let’s buckle down,” he ordered, and the lighthearted chatter around him stopped at once. “Barry, give us everything you’ve got.”

Barry cleared his throat a few times and pushed up his taped-together glasses. “Well, there’s a lot to go over,” he began, producing a large stack of paper covered in his messy scribbled writing. Some pages were stained with water, others were crinkled as if he’d thrown them away but then later fished them out of the trash.

“Holy shit, babe!” Lup, despite spending most of her time with Barry, was awed by the sheer amount of information laid out before her. “That’s a fuckton of notes!” Lucretia was impressed as well, despite the fact that many of the pages had nothing but equations or silly-looking doodles on them.

Taako, draped across the couch like a throw blanket, added, “this is what happens when Barold has free time.”

Merle and Magnus giggled quietly as Barry turned bright red, and then continued. “Most of this is theories and guesses. The stuff that’s written in red pen is what I know for sure.” Much to everyone’s disappointment, red pen was largely absent from the papers.

“But I did find this.” Barry produced a map of the sector surrounding the hangar. Apparently, he’d found it on the back wall of the hangar, and had quickly requisitioned it. “And yesterday, I heard one of the guards say that our belongings are in one of these outbuildings.”

Magnus rubbed his hands together and smiled like he was already seeing a plan of action. “Then we’re in business, buddy.” He was never very big on planning ahead, even when their lives literally depended on it.

“Not quite,” Davenport snorted. He paused to take a sip of “wine”, which was actually just grape juice since their captors refused to give them alcohol. “We’re only going to get one shot at this. Time’s running out on us.”

The seriousness of the situation seemed to weigh heavy upon the whole crew. Even Magnus suddenly looked grim, and the jokes were gone. “It’s not like we haven’t done crazy things before,” Lucretia joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah,” agreed Merle, patting Barry on the shoulder. “We just need a plan!”

Strategizing with Barry’s limited information was maddening. There was so much that they did not know, and so much that could go wrong. It felt like every time they were getting somewhere, Barry would sigh, push up his glasses, and say that he didn’t know whether it would work or not.

Magnus, after an hour of increasingly heated debate, suddenly sat up straighter and asked, “What about Fisher?” Lucretia was shocked that he hadn’t asked sooner. For the last eleven months, Magnus’s eyes had the look of searching for something that wasn’t there. More than once, she’d found him standing with his face pressed against the empty tank, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“I don’t know, Maggie.” Barry appeared to be somewhere close to frustrated tears. After all the work he’d done, he hadn’t realized how little progress he’d made, and he was obviously embarrassed about it. Magnus started pacing around the couch again.

Lup took his hand and squeezed it until he looked at her. “Babe, it’s okay.” She smiled warmly at him and Barry’s frown began to disappear.

The others were sprawled out all over the common room. Davenport was laying on the coffee table, tipsy from the bottle of real wine he’d pulled from his secret stash. Taako was still draped over the couch next to Barry and Lup, and Merle was lying under the coffee table for reasons known only to himself.

“I think what we’ve determined,” Davenport said in a slurred and giddy voice, “is that we’re not going anywhere.” He’d drank less than two glasses, but in a man that small, alcohol tolerance was nonexistent. Where he’d hidden the wine was a mystery.

Lucretia nodded, even though it pained her to do so. “We’ll just have to wait for an opening,” she said gently. The team’s morale was obviously sliding downwards, but there wasn’t much that they could do.

* * *

 

The next “morning” (it was hard to tell when there was no sun), Barry sat outside of the ship with his notes, stewing over the events of last night. It hadn’t gone the way he had wanted it to, and he was a bit down in the dumps about it. It had been his idea to carefully plan out an escape plot, instead of blasting out of there with nothing to lose. And now, he had nothing to show for it except a stack of largely worthless notes and dark circles under his eyes.

“Hey, Barry!” He was startled out of his thoughts as Rhett Haverdale, one of the friendliest guards in the hangar, strode towards him with a wide smile. “How’s it going?”

Barry set down his notes and conjured up a smile. “It’s going good. How’re you?” He shook hands with Rhett, who was dressed in the white uniform of a foot soldier, with overly gelled hair and snapping blue eyes.

“Oh, just swell,” he gushed, pulling something out of his pocket. “Take a look at this!” In Rhett’s white-gloved hand was what appeared to be an invitation written in a fancy (but almost illegible) cursive font.

“What is it?” Barry scanned the invitation like his life depended on it, trying to remember it as best as he could for later. Most of the words barely made sense to him.

Rhett’s smile somehow managed to get even more enormous as he continued. “It’s an invitation to the Winter Museum's annual masquerade gala! Only the very best people are invited.” He then pointed to the lower half of the invitation. “They have two new exhibits this year.”

“Sounds like a good time,” said Barry absentmindedly as his eyes wandered down the invitation. In fancy gray cursive, the names of the two attractions caught Barry’s eye. “‘Come see the Living Light…and the Singing Fish?!’”

Rhett, obvious to Barry’s shock, nodded again. “Exciting, right?! My wife is absolutely over the moon!” But Barry hardly even heard him. They had the Light of Creation and Fisher, in one place.

They had to get to that gala.

Barry recovered quickly and started trying to pump Rhett for information. “Who gets invited to this shindig anyways?” He kept his tone light and teasing, wishing he could write down the answers.

“Like I said, only the best people,” Rhett replied, looking at the invitation as if he still couldn’t believe it was his. “It’s the most formal event in the Diamond Sector.” Thank the gods for Rhett’s talkative nature and inability to keep a secret.

“Where is the museum anyways?” With every question he asked, he could feel the ice beneath him getting thinner and thinner. If Rhett suspected he was being used, he’d probably never speak to Barry again, and they’d lose their most valuable information source.

“Just a few blocks up. It’s a real nice place, all marble and glass. You can’t hardly miss it.” Rhett’s eyes were shining with barely disguised pride as he prattled on about seemingly petty details, all of which Barry carefully absorbed. You couldn’t get in without an invitation. Plus-ones were allowed. Dress code was black-tie. Unfortunately, there wouldn’t be an open bar. Weapons would be checked at the door.  

“Haverdale!” A booming voice cut across the length of the hangar and silenced their friendly conversation. “Get your ass back over here!” Late for work as always was Soldier Onyx, a hard-assed guard who followed the rules like Merle followed Pan.

Rhett jumped up with an embarrassed smile. “Gotta go, Barry. Nice talking to you!” Barry watched him sprint over to the other side of the hangar with a flushed face. In his haste, he’d dropped the fancy invitation, which Barry snatched up and stuffed down his shirt.

“Nice talking to you too,” he called back, abandoning his notes to scramble aboard the _Starblaster._ He quickly shut the door behind him, breathing hard as if he’d run a marathon.

He felt a giant, goofy smile spreading across his face and fought the urge to do a little victory dance. There was a way out! He could see it now.

Lup, who was playing poker with Taako, Merle, and Davenport, jumped to her feet right away. “What’s wrong?” Giddy with excitement, Barry kissed her much harder and quicker than usual, and spun her around the room.

“I’ve solved our problem,” he crowed happily, hugging her so hard that she was lifted a few inches off of the ground. Her laughter was music in his ears. “I know how we can get Fisher back!” Barry felt like playing piano again, singing at the top of his lungs, and dancing like a crazy man, all at the same time.

Taako raised a single bewildered eyebrow at him and his sister’s shenanigans. “Have you now?”

“You’ve found Fisher?!” Magnus came running into the common room, his massive feet shaking the entire ship. Hope was shining in his eyes, and for a moment, Barry wondered if he’d burst into tears of joy. Lucretia was hot on his heels, the pencil behind her ear went flying off somewhere down the hallway.

Barry nodded vigorously, still wrapped tight around Lup. “Better yet, I know how we can get him back and get the heck out of here!” He couldn’t stop smiling. His mind was already formulating a plan and firing off calculations.

Davenport leapt over the back of the couch and landed at his feet. “And how do you propose we do that?” His face was hopeful too, but tempered with much more caution.

Barry whipped out the invitation with just a touch of drama. “By going to a gala,” he declared with a goofy grin.


	3. The Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes start planning. Lucretia does forgery. Davenport worries. Barry lies. A laugh is shared.

Lucretia immediately set to work forging a near-perfect copy of Rhett’s invitation. The hangar unfortunately had a spell that prevented anyone inside from doing magic, so she was forced to do all of it by hand at the kitchen table while the others planned and plotted. 

“Okay, first things first,” said Davenport, folding his hands into a steeple and leveling his gaze at Barry, “how do we get out of here?” His blue eyes glittered intently with equal parts excitement and apprehension. 

Barry consulted his notes. “The guards have to use a key to enter and exit the hangar.”

“So we knock out the guards.” Magnus’s smile was so enormous, his face could scarcely contain it. It was going to be difficult to convince him to do anything other than a smash-and-grab type plan, so eager was he to get to Fisher. 

“How?” Davenport’s role in planning was maddeningly simple: he asked the questions that forced them to think through every possible scenario. It resulted in excellent plans, yes, but it was terribly annoying. He had resumed scribbling and muttering once again. 

“Lure them aboard,” muttered Lucretia, hunched over the paper and squinting. Magnus made the mistake of slightly shifting the table and she shot him a fierce glare. 

“With what?” 

Lup finally spoke up. “Your contraband wine, Cap’nport.” He stopped his harried scrawl, nodded, then continued. “Then stuff them in the bathroom.” 

Now Dav was beginning to smile at the clever ideas of his crew. Lup’s idea was pure genius; the bathroom was the only door with a lock other than the bridge. “Then what?”

“Search the outbuildings,” mused Taako, absentmindedly drumming his long pink nails on the table. The last eleven months had given him plenty of time to experiment with nail polish. “Find our stuff and head up to the museum.” 

“What about outfits?”

“I can transmutate some of our clothes.”

Davenport set down his marker and pointed at the board. “Let’s get roles assigned before we go any further.” On the whiteboard, he had written everyone’s names, as well as several random questions and ideas. “We need to be spread out and have access to multiple entrances and exits. Any suggestions?”

Everyone fell silent as they pondered the question. Merle was the first to speak. “If it’s a ticketed event…then not too many of us can get in as guests.” 

“Yeah, they may have seating charts and crap,” added Lup as she chewed her nails. Unlike her brother, Lup’s nails rarely stayed painted for long.

Barry scribbled that onto his ever-growing pile of notes. “I’ll see what else I can get out of Rhett or any of the other guards.” 

“I could talk my way into the kitchen,” volunteered Taako. “Show those scrubs how it’s done.” Dav nodded and wrote “chef” next to his name. 

“And I could be a waiter.” Merle had gotten up to get himself a glass of water and came very close to slopping it all over himself. “Maybe.” Dav raised a disbelieving eyebrow and added “waiter???” next to his name. 

More ideas were tossed around. The biggest problem was whether or not they could manage to blend in with the guests and staffers. Would they have to knock them out and hide them, or could they enter without fear of being questioned? 

There was a sudden rapping at the door, which made everyone jump sky high. “Hey Barry, can we talk for a sec?” Everyone froze in place, varying degrees of panic scrawled across their faces. Well, everyone but Davenport. 

Barry frantically gestured for everyone to pack up. “Yeah, come aboard.” In the few seconds it took for Rhett to open the heavy door, the whiteboard was erased, Lucretia’s forgery supplies were tossed into the pot that had once held Merle’s plant, and Barry passed off his notes to Lup. 

“Oh, hello everyone,” said Rhett with a frown. The expression he wore was that of a man on death row. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

Taako shook his head. “Nah. It’s totally cool.”

Rhett wrung his hands like an old woman and began to pace around the room. “I’ve lost something of mine. It’s terribly important.” For a millisecond, Barry’s face went from red to green and back again, but he rearranged it into a concerned expression. 

“Oh, that’s a shame,” said Merle with false sympathy, obviously trying not to burst into gales of wheezy laughter. Magnus kicked him under the table. Lup was even worse, she was biting her lip and turning red. 

Fortunately, Rhett was too worried to notice. “Thank you, Earl.” Merle snorted and crossed his arms, but Rhett didn’t seem to care. “It’s my invitation to the gala. I must have it, otherwise they’ll turn myself and my wife away at the door! Have you seen it?” Seven pairs of eyes all began to examine the ceiling. Lup and Merle looked to be in danger of laughing at any moment. 

“Haven’t you already RSVP’d?” asked Taako, calmly examining his nails and leveling a mildly amused look at Rhett. “Then you won’t need you invite, my dude.” 

“There is no RSVP,” he wailed, looking as if he would burst into tears at any moment. “If you don’t show up, you’re never invited back!” 

Barry put one hand on his tense shoulders. “Did you go to the Chrome Eatery again today?” Rhett sniffled and nodded sadly. It was his favorite place to visit on lunch break. “Well then maybe you should retrace your steps! That always works for me.” 

“You really think so?” Seven heads nodded vigorously back at him. “Well…it’s worth a shot, I guess.”

“That’s the spirit,” crowed Magnus, slapping him on the back so hard that he stumbled forward a few steps. Rhett’s childlike smile was back again, matching the (fake) smiles of the  _ Starblaster  _ crew. Everyone sighed as he jogged off the ship in search of the invitation, Magnus slamming the door shut behind him. 

Davenport immediately turned to Lucretia. “If these aren’t finished by the time he gets back, he’ll suspect us. Get to work.”

“Whatever you say, Capn’port,” she replied, giving him a mock salute. The forging tools and notes were pulled out, and the planning resumed. 

* * *

 

A plan had been formed, but Davenport was secretly terrified by it. “Are sure this is what you want to do?” There were so many things that could go wrong, so many ways that they could get caught. So many ways they could end up being forced to flee empty-handed. 

And Davenport was fiercely protective of his little family. He was older than all of them (except Merle) and he was their captain. Whatever happened to them would fall on his shoulders. And though the crew loved to make jokes about it, he was, more or less, their parent.

“There’s not much else we  _ can  _ do, Capn’port,” said Merle, gently patting his shoulder. Merle was right, of course. Without a floorplan of the museum they would never be able to create a foolproof plan. Davenport just had to roll with it. 

Taako, who had changed into his silk pajamas and smeared his face with a bright green facemask, nodded sagely. “Merle’s right, my man. This is the best we can do.” 

“Does anyone else have any thoughts?” An eerie silence hung over the seven of them like a dark cloud. Well, the six of them. A joyful light had returned to Magnus’s eyes and he couldn’t stop smiling. Everytime he thought about or spoke of Fisher, his eyes swam with happy tears. 

Some were more apprehensive than others. Barry was clearly anxious about the whole thing, but then again, he was anxious about most everything. Lucretia was worried too, but not nearly as much as Davenport. 

Davenport hopped off his chair from which he had presided over their planning session and nodded. “Then it’s bedtime. Good night everyone.” And he shuffled off towards his quarters, yawning behind his hand. 

Lucretia watched him go as the other fought their way towards the bathroom sink. His shoulders were slumped, and his head was hung low. What saddened her most of all was seeing that his hair was salt and peppery, something she hadn’t noticed before. 

She made her way to his room and found him staring at the IPRE-issued poster on the wall. It simply said, “Trust you gut.”

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” He was still staring blankly at the poster with worried eyes. His voice, which usually sounded like a semi nasally bird, was low and melancholy. 

Lucretia swallowed hard. “Are you okay?” Davenport turned to her with such a pained expression that she took a step back. Seeing that he’d frightened her, he tried to adopt what he clearly thought was a winning expression. 

“I’m terrified,” he declared with a wry but still pained smile. “I’m absolutely terrified.” Something told Lucretia that this could either end up being a stay up all night conversation, or a thirty second one, and there wouldn’t be much of an in between. 

Having spent nearly half a century with him, Lucretia knew right away what was bothering him. “We have done the best we can do with the resources we have access to.” 

They locked eyes. It was an expression that Davenport had often repeated during their training: “have you done the best you can do with the resources available?” He chuckled a little; Lucretia had always rolled her eyes at it. 

“I’m just worried about the kids-”

They both froze, Davenport with his hand clapped over his mouth and Lucretia going slack-jawed in amazement. “The  _ kids?”  _ she snorted, a smile beginning to appear at the corners of her mouth. 

Davenport opened his mouth to explain but it was too late. A small giggle escaped her, which turned the kind of laugh that is simply a silent scream. He stared at his shoes, his face turning almost as red as his hair. 

“I can’t believe you,” she squeaked, her shoulders shaking with laughter. “We’re all grown-ass adults!”

Davenport held up in his hands as if in surrender. “It’s, it’s just a joke between me and Merle!” This only made Lucretia laugh harder, for she and the rest of the crew had been calling them “the two dads” on the sly for decades. 

For another five minutes, they both tried to stop laughing. Then Davenport would meet her eyes, his mustache would twitch and she would snort, and they’d be laughing all over again. 

“But seriously, Capn’port,” she said, wiping a tear from her eyes and swallowing back her giggles. “Everything’s going to be fine.” 

Davenport nodded with a smile, suddenly feeling much better about their prospects. “Thank you, Lucy.” Lucretia blushed. Most everyone on the team called her “Creesh” or “Luc.” Never Lucy. Lucy was something Davenport had coined, and it made her feel as young as the day they climbed aboard the  _ Starblaster _ . 

“Get some sleep, Captain,” she commanded with a mock-stern voice. He saluted, and they parted ways. Lucretia wove her way back down the hall, past her crewmates and their usual nighttime melee in a bathroom that was  _ not  _ designed to fit five people at once. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I am SO SORRY that this chapter took so long! Writing heist fiction is a lot harder than I thought.


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